


there you go again, there you go again (making me love you)

by Stessa



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Each chapter is a season, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Like the show should have been, Retelling, Smut, show rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stessa/pseuds/Stessa
Summary: “How to get the saviour to taste my forbidden fruit?”or:Once Upon a Time as it should have been - with Regina and Emma acting on intense and deep desires as they first meet each other, before forming a tentative friendship, all the while keeping raging emotions and hidden desires to themselves because they can’t do this, yet they can’t seem to stop.Swendgame.





	there you go again, there you go again (making me love you)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically a retelling of Once Upon a Time, but with Swanqueen all the way. Which means that it follows the story-line of the show very closely, but I add scenes as I write. I have a lot of dialogue taken directly from the show, which means that this fic is also meant to explore the emotions and motivations behind the actions (at least my take on them); therefore this is something that I’m very excited about. Each chapter will be for each season, and the chapters will diverge more from the show as I go through the seasons, because that’s how Emma and Regina’s relationship will progress in my fic. It is Swendgame, so no worries about that, but Hook and Hood will both obviously be present as they were in the show. 
> 
> I hope this makes sense and that you’ll take this wonderful journey with me! This first chapter is season one, and it’s filled with smut and anguish and that early Swanqueen dynamic. The title is taken from Maroon 5’s One More Night as that is somehow the song that gave me inspiration for this fic to begin with. Please enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: As so much dialogue is taken directly from the show, I feel it necessary to say, that I do not own Once Upon a Time, and this is written purely for my own and other fans’ enjoyment.

( **regina** )

The first time it happens, Regina stalks after Emma through the yard behind Town Hall, furiously tempted to lash out after Emma’s taunting _your_ _move_ and _picking_ _apples_ and tearing down Regina’s apple tree. One of the only things she has left after Daddy. No, she will not stand for that.

So she stalks after Emma, casting no glance back at her beloved tree, and when Emma enters the lobby of the white building, Regina right behind her, she barks out a firm, “Stop right this instant, Miss Swan!” which causes Emma to turn around on the spot, eyes ablaze and arms rippling with tension.

“What,” Emma hisses, and she glares, staring at Regina with narrowed eyes and sweat trailing down the column of her neck.

Regina regards her; eyes trail over pale skin, to a heaving chest. She tries to figure out what to say to Emma now that she has her attention; she had not gone after her with a plan in mind, but rather in determination to not let Emma have the last word. Her eyes make their descend to Emma’s legs in those tight jeans, and she recalls the other night, Emma greeting her in nothing but red panties and her tank top – whether that had been intentional to tease and subdue Regina is not easy to tell – and it had worked regardless, leaving Regina dissatisfied and slightly yearning for another round of fighting after almost three decades of boring monotony.

She steps closer, presses her nose almost all the way to Emma’s, towering just slightly over the other woman due to her heels. “Just shut up,” Regina hisses, before she wraps a hand around Emma’s neck and pulls their lips together.

The kiss is messy, desperate, full of fire; and Emma’s teeth are rough against her lips as she claws at the blonde’s arms, feeling skin ripple beneath her fingertips. She yanks her closer, runs her finger through her hair. And it’s- it’s- it’s so goddamn infuriating that her kisses are _so_ _electric_. But _of_ _course_ they are. Stupid, insipid, annoyingly attractive Emma Swan who comes into her town to try and take away her son and the place she created 28 years ago. No, Regina will not stand for this.

Emma growls in the back of her throat, and her fingers are raking down Regina’s body, pulling at her grey dress and in no way being gentle, and Regina feels it all the way into her core; the excitement, the anger, the newness of Emma Swan who’s _there_ , and changing everything. “Fuck,” the blonde moans as Regina sucks on her tongue, and suddenly Regina has her pressed against the wall in the hall, and with a knee between her thighs.

“You are so fucking infuriating,” Regina snarls and trails her kisses down Emma’s throat. She bites her there, leaving behind teeth marks and red bruises.

Emma’s head clonks agains the wall and she bucks, hisses at the contact. “Like- likewise,” she moans.

Regina fists her hand in the white tank top and returns her gaze to Emma’s. “My office. Now,” she firmly says, and when she turns around to trot up the stairs, she half expects Emma to disobey her and leave Town Hall, but she finds that she’s decidedly pleased to hear the scruff of her boots behind her on the stairs. She wanted to have the last word, and she would have had it regardless, but this is better. Yes, this is much better.

The second they enter the office, Regina pushes Emma up against the door and flicks the lock, before she dives right back ind and divulges her tongue into Emma’s mouth. The blonde moans in gratification, impatient as ever, as she tugs on Regina’s dress and loosens the front clasp. Regina smirks at her yelp of surprise at the thong and the lace black bra, and when Emma’s hand find her bra, Regina wastes no time. She unbuttons the button on Emma’s jeans and jerks them down as far as possible in one move, before she slips her hand into her panties and is met with silky, wet heat.

Emma moans at the contact and Regina bites her lip as she easily finds Emma’s clit. The blonde has dropped her hands and she tilts her head back, allowing Regina to latch her lips to a pale neck as her fingers easily slip into her. _So_ _fucking_ _wet_ , she smirks to herself as she feels Emma shudder at the contact. Clearly, the other woman enjoys their encounters just as much as Regina does.

She pumps in and out of her, and Emma’s breaths are becoming more rapid, and it’s so fucking hot, so fucking delicious to have her like that; Emma Swan, completely at her mercy like never before, and if Regina had had her magic right now, she could have so easily taken her heart. The thought excites her, along with Emma’s silent pants, and she pushes herself even closer, slips slightly onto Emma’s knee and rubs herself against her through her damp underwear.

Regina chases her release right alongside Emma, orgasm just within her reach as she pulls in and out of Emma, using two fingers instead of one, and she feels the other woman clench around her. When Emma shudders out her orgasm, Regina follows her soon after, body jerking on its own volition as she tries to catch her breath.

“Shit, Regina,” Emma breathes, chest heaving up and down as she thumps her head against the door. “What the _fuck_. You’re like,” she stops, can’t find her words it seems, “ _fuck_.”

“So eloquent,” Regina bites as she steps back from Emma and tries to straighten down her hair. She fumbles with the clasp on her dress for a second, and the room smells vividly of sex. Emma’s still catching her breath, leaning against the door with her jeans unclasped, when Regina turns around and stalks back to her chair behind her desk.

Emma watches her, eyes dazed. “Regina,” she begins, but Regina hits the power button on her computer and bends her head away. She has no idea what just happened, but it was more exciting and palpable than anything she’s done with Graham in the last twenty years. “What? Are you just gonna ignore me now,” Emma says, and it’s more like a statement than a question. She bends her head to close her jeans.

“You can see yourself out, Miss Swan,” Regina swiftly replies as she motions towards the door.

Emma’s only reply is an indignant huff, and she unlocks the door and slams it loudly behind her as she leaves. Regina is left with a sticky wet feeling between her thighs; her orgasm was needed and quick, but she’s dissatisfied, and she finds that the only way to quell that feeling would be to do it again.

( **regina** )

Emma keeps coming at her, and Henry keeps talking back at her – heck, he even lends that infuriating woman her _shirt_ , as if she wouldn’t even realise it – and she can feel her son slipping further and further away from her with every day that woman spends in her town. And now she knows what she feels like when she comes around her fingers, and it’s infuriating, gets her blood boiling, so if all she has are petty retorts, she’s going to deliver them with all she’s got. _Enjoy_ _my_ _shirt_ , _because_ _that’s_ _all_ _you’re_ _getting_ , and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth like she knows it’s not even true, because Emma had already gotten much more than that, and she can see in the defiance in Emma’s eyes that’s she’s thinking of exactly the same thing as Regina.

So she sleeps with Graham as she usually does when she tries to make herself feel better, but it’s like he can’t really scratch her itch at all, and it irks her, annoys her that she knows exactly whose fingers she’d like to ride. She’s bored, dissatisfied, and if she can feel Graham slipping away from her too, she holds on that much tighter simply because she yearns to keep some semblance of control. But she can’t control Graham, and she finds out he’s _hired_ Emma to be his deputy, and when did she ever allow him to make such decisions?

When they she finds out that Henry’s climbed into the mines, the most natural thing for her to do is lash out at Emma, yell at her, and Emma yells right back, accuses her of being the cause for Henry’s descend, and the worst part is, she feels that it’s true, and she screams, _lecture_ _me_ _until_ _his_ _oxygen_ _runs_ _out_ , and she turns away, bites back tears and doesn’t want Emma to see how much she’s affected by not only the situation, but also her accusations.

They are going at it again, just like the other time, and if the situation wasn’t so dire, Regina would have pulled her back to the office for round two. Regina can see the desperation in Emma’s eyes as well, reluctant as she is to admit it; the desperation to get Henry back safely, the care for him. She’s sure it can’t measure up to her own love for _her_ son, but it’s there, hidden behind petulant childishness.

“We have to stop this,” the blonde murmurs behind her, watches her with careful eyes, “arguing won’t fix anything.”

“No, it won’t,” Regina whispers and turns back to her, arms crossed, protecting herself.

Emma stares at her, serious. “What do you want me to do?”

“Help me,” Regina replies, and if it sounds like she’s almost begging, it’s because it’s _Henry_ down there, and he’s her son, and nothing else matters, not even the Curse and this town, simply just Henry.

Emma nods, and Regina feels like maybe they can do this when they decide to use dynamite to punch through the ground, but it doesn’t work, and she lashes out at Marco instead, and all she hears inside of her is _HenryHenryHenry_ , but Emma keeps a clear head. And if it hadn’t been Henry, Regina would have told her to stay out of it, but Pongo is their saviour and they find the old elevator shaft and the way to get Henry and Archie out.

Regina is desperate. “Lower me down,” she says, and her heart is beating, and she just wants to hold Henry in her arms.

“No way,” Emma argues, “I’m going.”

“He’s my son,” Regina says, but she knows, she _knows_ that Emma will have better luck doing anything physical.

Emma stares softly at her, something recognisable and familiar in her eyes. “He’s my son too,” she says, “You’ve been sitting behind a desk for years. I can do this.”

And Regina steps closer, regards her, towers her and intimidates her, because she can _better_ do this. If anything happens to Henry, she’s going to- she’s going to- she’s going to _kill_ her with her bare hands, damned be everything else. “Just bring him to me,” she warns, and the tension between them could be cut with a knife. It almost feels like it did back at her office, when she was knuckle deep inside of her, but this it not the time nor place.

She’s a nervous wreck when Emma starts climbing down the shaft, but nothing can stop her from breaking into a huge smile when she sees the top of her son’s head come through the hole, not even the fact that he’s clutching tightly onto Emma. She hugs him immediately, leads him away from the crowd and touches him, makes sure he’s safe and sound, and there are no scratches on his beautiful head. She’s making sure that her son is hole, and she brushes Emma off as she comes to Henry’s side, desperate to get a closer look at her son. She doesn’t have the patience for _Emma_ _Swan_ right now, and most of all, she doesn’t have the self-control. If she doesn’t brush her off, she’s sure she’s going to kiss her instead; kiss her for bringing Henry back safely, and so it’s easier to push her away, because at least hostility is something she can work with.

She takes Henry home, gives him a bath and spoils him rotten with pizza for dinner; she should probably have lectured him on running away and crawling into a sealed-off area, but she can’t get herself to do it, just too relieved that he’s back home. He doesn’t talk to her though, sulks with his arms crossed, but nibbles at his pizza anyway, until he goes to bed early, thoroughly tired after the day’s events.

Regina nurses a glass of wine and thinks about what Archie said about the custody battle, and loathe as she is to admit it, she’d rather share Henry with Emma than go to court and have the other woman take him away completely. She’s not sure how it would work, but perhaps allowing them some time together is the right way to approach this. Maybe it can appease Henry, and maybe it can appease Emma, too.

She finds her contact information and dials her number. Taps her fingers against the counter as she waits for the other woman to pick up.

“Yeah?”

“Miss Swan?” she questions, leans back in her chair and holds her breath. “It’s Mayor Mills.”

Emma sounds surprised, “Madam Mayor.”

Regina breathes out. It physically pains her to have to say the words that she’s about to say, but she knows that she has to. For Henry’s sake. And if today has taught her anything, Henry’s the most important thing. “I was wondering if I could persuade you to come join me for a glass of wine. I’d like to discuss our situation with you. Find a solution that works for all three of us.”

“Right now?” Emma questions. She sounds slightly suspicious, but also intrigued.

“I just opened a bottle of red. Henry’s already sleeping, it’s been a… it’s been a hard day,” she finishes and twirls slightly around in her chair.

Emma says, “I’ll be right there,” before she hangs up the phone and Regina stares at herself in the reflection of the window, pensive.

She touches up her lipstick and her hair before Emma comes; gets the bottle of red into her office along with her own glass and one for Emma. And when the blonde arrives fifteen minutes later, she invites her into the office and pours her a glass. Emma’s on the couch and Regina takes a seat on the other end, a sliver of space between them as she crosses her legs and stares at the younger woman.

If she’s to believe Henry and everything that has happened in this town since Emma’s arrival, she’s truly looking at the lovechild of Snow White and Prince Charming. She guesses she can see the resemblance. The fair skin, the Charming foolishness.

“So uh,” Emma says and takes a sip of her wine, “what’s up?”

Regina smoothes down her slacks, “I didn’t properly thank you earlier – for getting Henry out of the mines,” she starts, eyes flickering slightly towards Emma’s, “I was in such a hurry to make sure that he was unharmed.”

Emma bites her lip. “Yeah, I- I got that,” she bites back, clutches the stem of her wine glass with white knuckles.

“And it has made me think,” Regina begins, “about our situation.” She’s feeling generous right now, because Henry is alive.

With a defiant face, Emma narrows her eyes. “Yeah? Because he’s my son too, you know. And _I_ would have liked to make sure that he was unharmed as well.”

And just like that, Emma managed to push at all her buttons in a single sentence, and even if her mood was good before, now it is ruined because Emma can’t keep her mouth closed. She clenches her own fingers around her wine glass. “Legally, you have no rights to him, Miss Swan, you’ll do well to remember that. _You_ _didn’t_ _want_ _him_.”

“Do you even want him?” Emma fires right back, and Regina seethes.

“Of course I want him!” she snaps, places her glass on the table and and balls her fists, “I love him. He’s my son! And I was going to set up a schedule with you, but of course _you’ll_ _ruin_ _it_ because of your insipid righteousness.”

Emma places her own glass on the table as well, jaw working beneath her skin. “You’re truly something, Madam Mayor,” she hisses, and they stare at each other, eyes locked with fiery gazes, for just a few seconds, before Emma pounces across the couch and Regina is pushed into the cushion by a feverish kiss.

She groans, feels Emma’s body on top of hers, and she’s seconds away from pushing her off, wanting the control, the upper hand, but it feels so damn good when Emma pushes her tongue past her lips and lets it roam around Regina’s mouth while she hastily, roughly, pulls her blouse out of her slacks. The blonde’s hands are eager, hurried, as they find her breasts, and Regina arches into her on her own volition, moans at the feeling, of Emma’s knee between her thighs and all thoughts of _Henry_ and _custody_ _battle_ and _cut_ _down_ _apple_ _tree_ leaves her mind.

Regina fists her hands in Emma’s tank top – pulls it over her head and is met with bare, pale breasts, because of course Emma is the sort of person not to wear a bra at a time like this. Her fingers strain to touch eager nipples, and Emma moans into her mouth as she palms them, thumbs them and eventually tears her mouth away from their kiss to envelope one in wet heat.

She feels excitement pool in the pit of her stomach, underwear feeling decidedly moist, and she struggles with her hands at Emma’s jeans, eager to once more feel the silky heat of her pussy around her fingers. But Emma’s not that easy to control, not this time around, and she must be angry too, because she pushes Regina off of her, holds a hand on her chest to push her into the couch and she stares down at her, eyes ablaze.

“You’re too fucking much,” she hisses, and Regina can’t tell if she’s angry or fond, or perhaps a delirious mix between the two, but Emma bites her lower lip with her front teeth and roughly pulls Regina’s pants down her legs.

“Miss Swan,” Regina warns, but she’s met with a hard _shut_ _up_ and long fingers against her thighs, and before she can even begin to chastise the other woman for her language, her thong is dangling from a lamp somewhere and Emma has buried her head in her pussy.

Regina groans, wet tongue stroking through her folds with fierce determination, and she arches her back, clenches her legs around Emma’s head and forgets everything else. Emma might be a nuisance, but Regina’s not going to complain about what she’s doing right now, and so she tangles a hand in Emma’s hair and pushes her face even closer to where she needs her the most.

Her orgasm is fast approaching, and Regina rubs herself shamelessly against Emma’s face, and she thinks she can feel the blonde smile against her before her tongue enters her, and she meets the trusts, chasing the precipice in a rush she hasn’t felt in a very long time. Emma hums against her, laps up every bit of her, and Regina doesn’t care, doesn’t mind, just want the godforsaken release against Emma’s pink mouth.

She peaks unexpectedly. Suddenly, it overcomes her, takes over, and shudders violently against her leather couch, toes curling and with Emma pressed tightly between her legs. She rides it out, drawn out by Emma’s insistent licks, and when she falls flat onto the couch, she closes her eyes and heaves in and out, trying to catch her breath. She has sweat running down her temples and to the back of her neck, and she only squints her eyes open when she feels Emma shuffle off the couch.

She’s- she’s taking _on_ _her_ _tank_ _top_. “What are you doing?” she hisses as she pulls herself onto one elbow and uses the other hand to cover her bra-clad breasts. Not that she’s not naked from the waist down.

“I’m going home,” Emma says and stares at her with clouded eyes. “When you really want to talk about an arrangement with Henry, try calling me again.”

“Fuck you,” Regina spits as the other woman stalks to the door.

Emma glares back at her. “No. _Fuck_ _you_ ,” she retorts. And with that she smacks the door close behind her and Regina’s left thinking. _You_ _just_ _did_.

( **emma** )

She hates herself for indulging just a little bit in Regina’s insane games, but it’s like every time she looks at her a certain way, with that fire in her eyes, she knows she’s going to end up fucking her in her office or in her home in the cover of darkness. Emma really can’t explain what it is, but she’s never been an expert on relationships, more often than not choosing the wrong people for the wrong reasons, and it’s like she tells Mary Margaret when the other woman is concerned about David: _I_ _don’t_ _know_ _much_ _about_ _relationships_ – _other_ _than_ _having_ _many_ _that_ _failed_ , _but_ _generally_ … _if_ _you_ _feel_ _like_ _something_ _is_ _wrong_? _It_ _usually_ _is_. And if she’s thinking about her own trysts with Regina when she says them, who’s Mary Margaret to know. She’s pretty sure her new roommate and friend would fall right off her chair if she ever found out what Emma’s been doing to the elusive Mayor Mills.

And she’s not keeping an eye on Regina because of the sex, she’s really not. She’s keeping an eye on Regina because of Henry. She realises that this can only turn out bad regardless, but she can’t stop herself. She goes into her meetings with Regina with the full intention of never having sex with her again, but then they start snarking at each other, and suddenly she’s knuckle deep inside of her, or Regina’s riding her face on the desk of her office. It’s angry, it’s filled with loathing, and it’s not healthy, because the truth is, they’re fighting over Henry, and Emma’s not sure they’re ever going to come to an agreement, because much like she is with everything, Regina is hot and cold about that.

So when she sees Graham sneak out of Regina’s window one night, she’s not really sure how she feels. Mostly, she just thinks it’s disgusting, because Graham is one of the people in town she actually gets along with, and just six hours before, Emma was the one inside Regina, and now Graham is sleeping with her, too. She much is starting to make sense to her now, and she’s determined not to go there with Regina again, because she can’t _unsee_ it. It’s not like what they have is anything, but she’s not sleeping with a dude, so why would Regina feel the need to.

“Henry doesn’t know,” Graham says, and he sounds so broken, like he really doesn’t understand why he’s spending some nights in the mayor’s bed, and Emma _gets_ that, she gets it, because she doesn’t understand why she’s doing it either, except Regina is a fucking seductress and their sex is explosive.

“I wish I was him right now,” Emma replies to him, “This is disgusting.”

And so this secret that Regina and Graham have tried to keep for who knows how many years is suddenly right there in front of Emma, and he’s talking to her, as if she understands him and can help him sort out his feelings, when she’s not even sure what she’s feeling herself. She makes it a point to stay clear of Regina and see Henry in secret, and it works, mostly, except when she wakes up from a dream where Regina had been fucking her with a strap-on. Graham is desperate to get her to understand what is happening, desperate for her approval, and Emma should probably have seen it coming, but she _doesn’t_ , she _hadn’t_. She’d been too wrapped up in Regina-Henry-Regina to even notice that Graham was making eyes at her.

After _why_ _do_ _you_ _care_ _how_ _I_ _look_ _at_ _you_?, Graham kisses her, and she’s so surprised, so disgusted by this weird love triangle that he’s not even aware that he’s a part of, that she pushes him away. “That’s way over the line,” she says, and she thinks about him sneaking out of Regina’s window, and him seeing Regina naked, him looking for something she’s apparently not giving him. But he’s not going to get it with Emma, either. “Whatever you’re looking to feel, I can tell you one thing,” she adds, because this is _messed_ _up_ , “you’re not getting it with me.”

Perhaps she’s not just disgusted because of the thought of Graham and Regina together, but also slightly jealous, because _fuck_ , how many people do Regina need to have sex with to keep herself sated? It’s not like Emma is an expert, exactly like she told Mary Margaret, and feeling something more often that not comes with a load of trouble that she just doesn’t want to deal with. That doesn’t mean she _doesn’t_ _feel_ though; she feels plenty, she’s just so very good at hiding it, so when Regina accuses her of being incapable of feeling anything for anyone, it hurts much more than Emma ever wants to admit.

Because she does feel. She feels so many things. And the most idiotic part? Regina tells her to stay away from Graham as if _he’s_ the thing Emma’s having feelings about. Sure, the guy is great, but it’s not like she wants to fuck him.

It all crescendos into this huge fight when she follows Graham to the mausoleum. Regina shows up – because _of_ _course_ she does, and she’s got it all backwards. Got Graham’s intentions and feelings all wrong, and Emma’s trying not to pause at the pure hurt in her eyes, because is Regina really upset that Graham doesn’t feel anything for her? Is that seriously what’s going on right now? Emma just doesn’t understand it.

“So you’re leaving me for her,” Regina states. Her brown eyes are shining with unshed tears, and she looks infuriatingly beautiful, like Emma wants to make Graham disappear and hold her in her arms and tell her that everything is going to be okay.

Graham stares at her, defiant. “I’m leaving you for me.”

Regina turns to Emma next, because that is what she always does; finds someone to blame and lash out at, and Emma’s been the bad guy in Regina’s story ever since Henry came and found her in Boston. “I don’t know what I ever did to you, Miss Swan, to deserve this. To have you _keep_ _coming_ after everything I hold dear.” Her voice almost cracks, and it pains Emma, pains her so much, because no, Regina doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Graham leaving her for whatever reason, and despite what Regina might think, Emma is not in the business of taking kids away from their parents. She wants to share Henry – share him – be a team somehow. And it pisses her off, pisses her off beyond believe that Regina doesn’t understand that Emma’s not the bad guy here.

“It’s not her,” Graham defends Emma, because of course he does. Why can’t he understand that his presence is making things worse, and that he should have stayed out of this, so it hadn’t turned into this weird love triangle that Emma is in no way interested in?

Regina grows angrier when he speaks. She stares at him, eyes ablaze. “None of this happened until she got here,” she firmly says.

And that is the last straw for Emma, because what is it with this infuriating woman and blaming everything on her? It’s _not_ her fault that Graham is leaving their arrangement. She’s not even interested in him. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she genuinely means it. “But did you ever stop to think that maybe the problem isn’t with me… but with you?” It pains her to say it, even in her anger.

“Excuse me?” Regina fires back, and it feels like she’s staring straight into Emma’s soul.

“Henry came and found me,” Emma says as she moves behind Graham, staring Regina down and letting the words spill across her lips, “Graham kissed _me_. Both were miserable.” For some reason they were, and Emma doesn’t understand it. She’s pretty sure, deep down, that Regina is not a bad person, that she just has an odd way of holding onto the things that she loves, almost as if loving something is going to get her hurt if she doesn’t cling onto it hard enough. But Regina must be to blame for this, she must be the reason that these two men are pulling away from her; perhaps because her grasp is too tight. “Maybe, Madam Mayor, you need to take a good, hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why that is. Why is it that everyone is running away from you?”

Something goes off inside Regina’s head at that; it’s like Emma pressed the exact button with her words that pushed Regina over the edge. There’s a soft smile on her lips, just briefly, before she launches forward and punches Emma square in the face.

Graham’s indignant, “Regina!” doesn’t stop Emma from turning around – furious and pissed off, and slightly impressed, because Regina’s got a right hook on her – and slapping her across the face, too. They tumble to the ground for a second, and they’re fighting, pushing, and Emma shoves Regina against the wall of the mausoleum, and it almost looks like she’s _enjoying_ it, and it throws Emma for a loop, even as Graham pulls her away and Regina wipes blood from her lip.

“You’re not worth it,” Emma says to her and stalks past her, eager to get away from her before she does something stupid, like maybe try to kiss her again. It’s how they’re always starting; vicious words and physical altercations, so why should this time be any different.

Graham finds her at the station after; he doesn’t say much, but carefully cleans her wounds as she sits on the table in front of him. And she thinks that maybe she could do this after all; he’s handsome, just her usual type with his beard and his quiet self. If she’s going to make some life for herself in this town, it wouldn’t be half bad if it was with him. It’s not like what she and Regina are doing is much foundation for a future. So she kisses him, kisses him because he is a good man, and he wants good things for her. What she hadn’t counted on was him falling to the floor in cramps – clearly suffering a heart attack – after mumbles about remembering everything. She cries as she tries to shake him awake, as she does chest compressions while on speaker with the hospital. She _begs_ for him to wake up, because she’s not sure she can be in this town without him, but it’s to no avail.

She gets the news shortly after they’ve arrived at the hospital with the ambulance. He’s dead, and there’s nothing they could have done to save him.

( **regina** )

She kills Graham. It’s not like she _wants_ to kill him, but she simply has to. If she can’t control him anymore – if he’s going to follow Emma Swan around like a lost little puppy with the tail between his legs – she has to get rid of him. She needs someone she can control, not someone who _fancies_ Emma Swan, the Saviour. She needs someone on her side. If it just so happens that this also makes sure that Emma is being pursued by no one, then that is just pure luck and coincidence.

She also needs Emma to not be Sheriff, but that’s a given. She can’t have the alleged Saviour parading around with that badge on on her belt. She suspects that Sidney will have to do. He’s not entirely incompetent, although his physical abilities leave much to be desired. He does have one important attribute though – she can _control_ him. With just one snap of her fingers, he does her bidding, and that’s exactly the kind of Sheriff she needs in her town.

If Emma fights tooth and nail for that position, it is exactly what she has expected. She didn’t think that the spawn of Snow White would go down without a fight, so she uses dirty tricks. It’s not without qualms that she posts the story about Henry’s birth, but she can deal with Henry knowing the truth if she just makes sure that Emma’s not elected. She can take care of Henry, let him know that despite the way he came into this world, he’s her perfect little prince and she will give him the world.

Of course Emma comes into her office that evening, knocking down doors and taking names. Town Hall is quiet, everyone else has gone home for the evening, it appears, and Regina is just finishing up some paperwork when she is rudely interrupted.

“You really had to _post_ that in your stupid paper?” Emma snarls at her as she steps into the office and slams the door open. “Did you even consider how that might make Henry feel?”

Regina stares up at her, eyebrow raised. “Henry knows he’s loved.”

“You’re insufferable,” Emma fires back, and if Regina wasn’t in such a rush to get home to Henry, she might have challenged her a little more – just to see if she could get Emma riled up enough to fuck her up against the wall.

“Yes, you’ve made your views on me very clear, Miss Swan,” Regina says as she tucks her paperwork into the bag, accepting that she’ll have to finish it later, once Henry has gone to bed. She brushes past Emma, lingering perhaps just a little too close, and as she makes her way down the construction site of a stairwell, Emma follows right behind her.

“That’s it?” Emma argues, “That’s all you have to say to me right now?”

Regina resists to roll her eyes, and as she is prepared to fire back an answer, she is blasted off to the side by a rather large explosion. Flames immediately shoot up and lick around them, and Regina feels the pain in her ankle, because she didn’t land right on it. Emma appears just as surprised; enthralled for a second by the long flames and smoke twirling around them, and Regina can’t put any weight on her foot.

“Help me,” she asks Emma, and if she sounds a little bit afraid, it’s simply because she has a 10-year-old son at home, and what will he do if she perishes in a fire? She certainly won’t let him grow up with _Miss_ _Swan_ as his sole caretaker, because Henry needs more class than that. If she just had her magic, if she just- she could’ve teleported herself out of here instantly or even douched down the fire with a flick of her wrist.

Emma stares down at her, contemplative.

Regina is bitter. “You’re gonna leave me, aren’t you?”

And she watches Emma brush past her and out of sight, and the feeling is _different_. Like she’s not only afraid for her life, but also disappointed in Emma, because she is pretty certain that she had thought more of her. She would have thought that she would have – _saved_ her or something. But Regina supposes that Emma sees this as her moment to swoop right in where she wants most to be. However, she is only mildly surprised when Emma returns with a blasting fire extinguisher, and of course she’s back, she’s a Charming, and they all have such a hero complex, Regina scolds herself for even doubting her.

If she thinks that Emma is just a little bit attractive with the way she tucks her onto her side and helps her down the stares, she makes sure to scold her for it, and all Emma can say – although with a slightly fond smile on her lips, Regina is sure – is, “Seriously, you’re complaining about _how_ I save your life?”

Outside there is a crowd gathered and firemen working, and they are immediately the center of attention; Deputy Swan, saving Mayor Mills from a wild fire. Regina knows how this looks, can see the instant front picture of _The_ _Mirror_ , and there’s nothing she can do about it. Emma wins the election fair and square – simply because she is _honest_ , and goodness, Regina _hates_ that – and she and Henry and Sidney go to Granny’s to give her the good news.

“Congratulations… Sheriff Swan,” she says, and if she sounds bitter it’s merely because accepting a position like this ensures that Emma is in her town to stay for a lot longer than Regina would like her to. She’s quite certain it also means that she has to come to terms with the fact that she will have to share Henry, no matter if it’s with the Saviour or not.

And how could fate be so cruel? How could her sweet, beautiful prince be the product of the Saviour’s escapades at the age of seventeen? Henry is _perfect_ , even on the days that he hates her the most, and it bothers her just so that she is beginning to recognise Emma in the clench of his jaw and in those beautiful green eyes of his.

It also means that Emma is a worthy opponent despite everything, and Regina has to admit that there is a certain excitement in that, something she hasn’t experienced since Snow White, and it’s thrilling, lighting all kinds of fires inside of her that she’s not sure how to tame without just bulldozing straight forward and meeting Emma head-on.

Henry goes to bed that night, happier than he’s been in a very long time, and Regina lights a fire in her office, sits with a glass of wine and sends a text to Emma.

( **emma** )

_Hello_ _Miss_ _Swan_. _Your_ _presence_ _is_ _requested_ _at_ _my_ _house_ _this_ _evening_. _I_ _would_ _like_ _to_ _get_ _the_ _paperwork_ _for_ _your_ _new_ _position_ _taken_ _care_ _of_ _and_ _in_ _order_ _as_ _quickly_ _as_ _possible_. - _Mayor_ _Mills_.

Emma stares as the text as she walks up the front path to Regina’s house, just to make sure that she didn’t misunderstand anything, but it’s right there – Regina wants to see her, now, because she’s the new Sheriff, a responsibility she never thought she’d get, and she’s not quite sure how to handle it, but she’ll just have to do it anyway.

She rings the doorbell, quite sure that Henry must already be in bed since is is past nine, and when Regina opens the door, she is dressed more casual than Emma has ever seen her before; bare feet in stockings, pencil skirt with the dress shirt untucked. She also has one too many buttons undone, and Emma sneaks a peek at red lace, and lifts her gaze to meet Regina’s eyes.

They’re shining, and Regina leans herself slightly against the doorjamb. “Glad you made it, Miss Swan. Please join me in my office.”

Emma follows her down the hallway, and her eyes trail down her backside appreciatively. It’s only because she has spent a fair amount of time eyeing Regina since she arrived in town that she notices the extra sway that seems to be to her hips. She feels a dull ache in her lower belly and her mouth goes dry when she enters the office and sees that Regina has lit a fire and that there are two wine glasses and an open bottle of red on the small table next to the paperwork. Emma sweeps off her jacket and takes a seat, immediately tucking the papers closer to get a read. “You expecting anyone?” she asks as she nods towards the bottle, even though some voice in the back of her mind is telling her that this wine is put there for her sake.

Regina daintily takes a seat next to her and pours the wine into both the glasses. “This is for us, Miss Swan. I thought it fitting that we celebrate your win today and toast to good association between the Sheriff’s Department and Town Hall.”

Emma reaches for her glass and says, “You want us to work together?” She’s sceptic, but who can blame her.

“I want what’s best for this town,” Regina kindly says, wine glass hovering in the air. “Now that you’re Sheriff, we have to work together to do what’s best for it. I want Storybrooke to thrive, and no matter our personal qualms with each other, I choose to hope and believe that you can make the necessary decisions.”

Taking a sip of her wine, Emma places the glass back down and reaches for the pen. “Do I just sign all three of these?” There seems to be nothing wrong with the contract, and she’s eager to get her signature there before Regina changes her mind about these good intentions.

Regina nods, “Just on the dotted line.”

Emma swirls the pen across the last page of each of the contracts and pushes them away. She looks at Regina, clinks their glasses together and says, “To a thriving Storybrooke.”

“Indeed,” Regina agrees, and they both take long gulps of their glasses before Emma leans back in the couch, running her finger down the stem as she watches Regina. The other woman has placed her glass back onto the table and has picked up two of the contracts. She crosses the room; places one on her desk, before bending slightly over near the shelves by the fire place. She tucks out a filing system, carefully places the papers inside.

She moves so slowly, and Emma can’t tear her eyes away from her bent over bottom, full and round in the pencil skirt. She’s well aware of the fact that she’s being played like a violin right now, but for some reason she can’t seem to find it in herself to care. Regina looks way too good for her to care, and heat is already pooling in her belly. The only question Emma can’t seem to figure out an answer to, is whether or not Regina is doing this because she wants an opportunity to shoot down Emma, to make her feel inferior, of if the mayor actually wants this too, wants it as much as Emma finds herself wanting it. There’s only one way to know for sure though, so when Regina turns back around, and Emma thinks that somehow yet another button has been popped open, she discards of her wineglass on the table and crosses the floor in two strides.

Her hand clutches at Regina’s hip roughly, and the shorter woman’s breath hitches audibly. Her eyes have turned darker with want, and Emma is pretty sure she just got her answer. She wastes no time; she bends her head and pulls Regina in for a rough kiss, lips parting immediately for their tongues to meet as she bites back a moan. Regina meets her kisses eagerly, tongues sliding against each other as she roughly tugs at Emma’s hair. The blonde nips at a blood red lip before running her tongue across it soothingly, and as Regina’s nimble fingers slides beneath her tank top to unhook her bra, Emma pops the buttons on Regina’s shirt. They’re not wasting any time today; their hands are eager, almost desperate, and Emma feels that familiar pull inside of her, the need to get Regina closer or so help her God.

“Off,” she gruffly says and pushes the shirt down Regina’s shoulders. It ends somewhere near the couch, and Emma licks her lips by the sights of round breasts incased in red lace.

Regina pulls Emma’s top over her head, and her bra slips off, eager fingers finding her nipple as their mouths meet again. Emma works blindly; finds the zipper of Regina’s skirt while Regina pops the button on her jeans. Their kisses turn sloppier, and Emma trails her lips from Regina’s mouth, across her jaw and down her neck. She sucks there for good measure, on the brink of leaving a mark that she knows will piss Regina off immensely, before she lets her tongue continue its path downward. Teeth tug at lace, and a dusky nipple pops free. Emma wastes no time and wraps her lips around it, savouring the whimper escaping Regina’s lips, and the nails digging into her back.

The black pencil skirt pools at their feet and Emma takes a step back, reluctantly releasing the nipple, and her eyes turn even darker as she takes in Regina’s appearance. Apparently the other woman had indeed been planning this – not that Emma would have figured otherwise, because who the fuck asks someone to their house at 9pm to sign _paperwork_ – because she’s wearing a garter belt, a fucking garter belt that matches the red bra and sits smugly around her trim waist. It’s the first time Emma’s managed to get her _this_ undressed, and her breath comes out short as her eyes trail down the garter belt to the clasped stockings, and she moans at the fact that Regina’s not minded to put on fucking _panties_.

An unnatural growl escapes Emma’s throat and she dives back in, clutches the other woman closer as she pulls her down into the soft carpet in front of the fire place. Regina chuckles throatily, clearly pleased with herself, and Emma hovers above her, presses kisses between her breasts, down her stomach and over her thighs. She can smell the other woman’s arousal clearly, not hindered by fabric and she yearns to taste it again, to suck her clit onto her mouth, but Regina has other thoughts. She tugs at Emma’s jeans, manages to get them somewhat down her thighs even in their odd position, and Emma pauses to laugh down at her.

“Do you need me to take them off?” she cheekily suggests, feeling somewhat braver. There’s something about this time that feel different, changed somehow, and she dares tease the other woman, poke at her.

Regina huffs. “You need to get those pants off this instant, Miss Swan. Honestly, how you even manage to breathe in them is beyond me.”

“But they sure do make my ass look great,” Emma comments, and as far as she can tell by the look on Regina’s face that the other woman thinks so too, even if she is trying her hardest to look dismayed. “Come here,” Emma murmurs and falls backwards, onto her back. She pushes at her pants, and Regina follows her, easily getting them over her calves and all the way off.

The brunette hungrily stares down at her, eyes dark. “Much better,” she titters and crawls closer, heaving chest hovering above Emma.

Not able to wait for another second, Emma reaches out and cups Regina’s pussy with a palm, eager to feel the slick wetness she has come to enjoy as of late. She moans at how wet Regina is, at how much her fingers slip. “Fuck,” she swallows, throat bopping, “you’re really fucking wet, Madam Mayor.”

Regina arches an eyebrow, looks down at her. “Then why don’t you do something about it, Sheriff Swan?”

Emma gulps and lightly taps her fingers against her closed lips. “Hop on.”

Something of a growl escapes Regina’s throat and she positions herself, knees on either side of Emma’s head, her sex inches from Emma’s mouth. She stares up at her, can now see clearly that Regina’s drenched, and she cranes her neck, not able to tear her eyes away, eager to get a taste. But Regina taps her on the hand that has snaked onto her thighs. “Patience, Miss Swan.”

Emma groans, wants to retort and get on Regina’s nerves, but before she is able to, the brunette has lowered her pussy onto Emma’s awaiting mouth and her senses are clouded in everything Regina. She gets an instant moan in reciprocation as her tongue swipes down the length of Regina’s folds, teasingly hesitating at her entrance before stroking back up to her clit, and Emma’s fingers clutch at Regina’s soft thighs while the woman moans and moves above her, grinding her body back and forth and smearing herself all over Emma’s face.

The blonde doesn’t mind though, and when another gush of wetness teases her tongue, she slips it inside Regina, fingers clutching harder as Regina steadies herself with a hand against the floor. She rides Emma’s face as if it’s the last thing she is meant to be doing, and honestly, Emma’s pretty sure there’s juices all over her face and neck now, but she laps at it, savours every last second as Regina’s movements grow more and more erratic on top of her. Her thighs are clenching around Emma’s head, and she moans loudly – so loudly that for one brief moment Emma wonders if Henry will wake up and hear, before her attention is pulled back to the beautiful, orgasming woman on top of her.

Regina keens, arches her back and tremors on top of her, and Emma follows her movements, lets her set the pace as she convulses and eventually seems to be coming down off her high. She breathes heavily, falls to the floor next to Emma and tries to catch her breath.

Emma licks her lips, tasting the remnants of Regina’s orgasm, before she pulls herself up to rest on an elbow to be able to glance down at the beautiful, dishevelled woman next to her. Regina is so different like this; their fire and passion translate so easily into the bedroom, yet there is a certain vulnerability to her, even if she wants to control everything. Emma can’t quite grasp how she ended up like this when most days it still feels like she _loathes_ the woman, but perhaps that’s just the way she’s supposed to feel.

“You looked really fucking hot doing that,” Emma says and tentatively brushes a hand down the exposed stomach in front of her.

Regina eyes her, gaze dazed. “Don’t get mushy on me. Get off your hideous underwear and come here.” She wriggles her fingers to make sure that Emma gets the point, and Emma wastes no time slipping off her boy shorts and climbing on top of Regina. “You will have to do the work,” Regina smirks, as if that wasn’t obvious.

She’s beautiful like this, too, Emma thinks, and she lowers herself onto Regina’s waiting fingers, immediately relieved at the feeling of something inside of her. She rocks back and forth, her pussy already contracting, and Regina smirks, clearly pleased with herself. Emma squeezes her eyes shut, feels herself blushing a little. She’s entirely naked on top of Regina right now, and that’s a first too, so she moves her pelvis and moans at the slender fingers curling against the good spot inside of her.

“Don’t stop,” she hoarsely breathes, and it’s not going to take long, not after Regina riding her face like that, and her hips move faster as Regina goes deeper, and she places her hands on Regina’s breasts, stiff nipples against her palms as she squeezes them. When she feels a thumb rub against her clit, once, twice, she shakes, feeling herself reach that precipice where there’s no way back. She can’t control her body; tilts her head back and rides it out, thankful that Regina doesn’t stop her ministrations but continues on, letting the orgasm wash over her in waves.

There’s, indeed, something different about this moment. She doesn’t know what it is, but when she finally slumps over, utterly spent, she’s not sure she likes the look in Regina’s dark eyes.

( **emma** )

Their relationship – can it even be called that? Acquaintance maybe? _Acquaintance_ – changes somewhat after that. Emma can’t quite put her finger on it, but something is different. Perhaps it’s the fact that Emma’s in Storybrooke to stay, to sheriff and be close to Henry, and she’s establishing _connections_ to people. Not just Henry and on extend, Regina, but also with Mary Margaret, and with Ruby from the diner. She helps people and she wants to do well in her new position, to not let Henry be disappointed in her.

So when Regina asks her to keep an eye on the _stranger_ in town – only the second newcomer ever according to both Henry and Ruby – she does so. Because she’s the Sheriff. But also because Henry is her son, and being worried because a stranger approaches him is apparently an entirely normal reaction. She also has to accept that Regina’s going to tear down the wooden castle by the pier. It sucks, and she fights it, for a second sure that Regina is doing it out of spite, but it turns out that all Regina really wants is to build a new _amazing_ playground in town. She feels a little idiotic after that, but for a second there, Regina dared to really look at her again.

She even goes as far as to plant a bug in Regina’s office and perhaps there’s even intense eye contact for a second, and Emma feels like perhaps Regina would have jumped her from across the table if Sidney hadn’t been there; the unsubtle once-over Regina gives her most definitely alludes to that. She wavers for a second but pulls back and leaves the office. It takes a lot of will-power not to give into the look Regina is throwing her, to challenge her and get into one of their usual fights, but she bites it back; retreats and leaves the office and Regina to her own devices.

Their fight continues, like they really want to tear each other apart - as if they weren’t eating each other out five days ago – and Emma is hella confused, because does she want to tear Regina apart? It feels like she does, because the mayor is just so fucking infuriating and excellent at pushing all her buttons, and at the same time she wants to rip all her clothes off her body and make her scream her name. But they continue on with allegations, she teams up with Sidney and there’s a car with faulty breaks, and it all ends up with cutting remarks and threats of a restraining order and Emma is furious.

_That’s_ _it_! she thinks and angrily chucks down half a bottle of beer, _no_ _more_. _No_ _more_ _sex_. _No_ _matter_ _what_ _she_ _does_ _or_ _what_ _she_ _wears_ , _you_ _are_ _not_ _falling_ _into_ _bed_ _with_ _her_ _again_.

It’s what she has decided, but it is quickly proven to be very fucking difficult.

Especially when Regina suddenly grants her thirty minutes with Henry – even if it’s to talk to Gold while he’s in jail, but Emma looks the other way – and she meets August W. Booth and he’s not at all a bad guy, it seems, but simply there to make her _believe_. He’s like Henry in that way, and perhaps that’s why she so quickly feels comfortable with him. Not that she believes a word out of his mouth, and he might very well be a little crazy, but it’s refreshing and it takes her mind off Regina’s ridiculously sexy and addictive body for a little while.

The somewhat calm – as calm as it can get in a small town with Regina Mills as Mayor – ends quickly though, because Kathryn Nolan is missing and Emma has to look for her. Her car is crashed by the side of the road, and it’s pretty clear she never made it to Boston, but Emma can’t find her, and Mary Margaret is kind of a mess because of the entire situation. Emma warned her not to get involved with all of this, and she would have been there a bit more for her friend and roommate if she wasn’t so busy proving to Regina that she’s a fit sheriff and can handle the job.

_You_ _covered_ _this_ _room_ , _I_ _suggest_ _your_ _branch_   _out_ , Regina tells her when they’re at the hospital, and Emma has to fight really hard not to drag her into a supply closet and fuck that sass right out of her. Instead she has to bite her tongue and continue the search; she has too tell herself why it is that she cannot fall into bed with Regina again, no matter how crazy hot their sex is.

That promise to herself becomes easier to keep, however, when Ruby finds Kathryn’s heart in a box on the beach, and Mary Margaret is arrested for her murder. Emma _knows_ she didn’t do it, because Emma knows Mary Margaret, and she knows that she’s not lying, but her prints are there, and of course she has to do what the evidence tells her, even if it kills her.

“Regina will fire me and hire someone who will put you in jail,” Emma says to her with downcast eyes. She hates doing this, hates locking Mary Margaret up when she _knows_ she didn’t hurt anyone, and most of all she hates Regina for putting her in this situation. Of course she has to do her job, but it would be easier if Regina wasn’t so fucking _smug_ about Mary Margaret’s arrest, if it didn’t please her so fucking much.

She and Regina question Mary Margaret together, and Regina manages to piss her off even more. How that’s even possible, Emma doesn’t know, but it happens, and she feels her blood boil. Mary Margaret is _innocent_ , she’s like the fucking most innocent person Emma has ever known and Regina thinks she’s killed someone? They go at it in the hallway instead, Mary Margaret locked behind a closed door and a one-way mirror.

Regina is all up in her face, and damnit if Emma doesn’t want to kiss that lipstick right off her mouth, fury be damned. “She’s a woman who has had her heart broken and that, that can make you do unspeakable things,” Regina hisses at her, voice hoarse with restraint and something entirely else.

Emma can’t help but feel like Regina might be speaking from personal experience, but like so many other things with Regina, Emma can’t just ask her about it, because they are not like that. They don’t care, they’re at war, always fighting, always arguing. And what does it even matter to Emma that Regina has had her heart broken before when she is so clearly cold-hearted now with no room in her heart to love anyone but Henry?

They eventually find a piece of a shovel where the heart was buried, and Emma can’t believe it, but it _fits_ with a shovel from Regina’s shed. She knows Regina loathes Mary Margaret for some reason, but does she loathe her so much as to kill an innocent woman just to frame her? Emma has to follow the evidence though, and when she stands with that search-warrant on Regina’s front porch step, she feels her heart ache a little.

She doesn’t _know_ Regina, not at all. But when she asked her – just after arriving in Storybrooke – if she loved Henry, Regina didn’t lie. _Of_ _course_ _I_ _love_ _him_ , _he’s_ _my_ _son_ , she’d said. And Emma believed her. How can someone love a kid like Henry – such a wonderful, kind-hearted kid with all the right motivations – and still be a murderer? Something doesn’t _fit_ in that picture, and it’s like she’s missing a piece of the puzzle. Otherwise it doesn’t make sense, it _doesn’t_. Emma clutches that paper and goes into the shed with determination, knowing what she’s going to find, knowing that she’ll have to bring Regina in for questioning, and why does that make her heart ache a little?

But she’s furious, furious because it’s no longer a broken shovel in the shed. It’s a whole one, and someone must have tipped Regina off. She has _so_ _much_ power in this town, which means that if she really orchestrated this entire thing, she’s dangerous to all of them, dangerous to Henry. And she might love him, but Emma can’t let her son be raised by some sociopathic murderer?

Sidney’s the only one who could have told Regina about the shovel, and even though Kathryn is found – everyone is off the hook, including Mary Margaret, thank fuck – she confronts him. “Are you in love with her?” she asks, because it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why wouldn’t he be in love with Regina, who’s the most alluring woman Emma has ever seen, and why does it stir something awful in her stomach by the thought of that?

“She’s an amazing woman,” is Sidney’s only explanation, and Emma can’t help but agree, even if she’s also pretty sure that Regina is a sociopath.

She should probably take Henry and drive away with Storybrooke in the rearview mirror, leaving it all – including Regina – behind. If just her kid wasn’t so damn stubborn and refused to do so because she’s _the_ _Saviour_ and she needs to _save_ _people_ and she _can’t_ _just_ _leave_.

Then Archie says that she should consider leaving town – if it’s best for Henry. What they’re doing isn’t good, it’s hurting him, upsetting him, making him believe even more in his made-up fairytale world, and it’s like the obsession has only gotten worse after Emma settled down and decided to indulge him. Perhaps it’s better if she leaves him and Regina be. It’s not like Regina is a horrible mother. She _loves_ Henry, that much is sure, and she fights like hell for him. She might be strict, but a strict parent is better than no parent, Emma knows this deeply.

“Do you think Regina would ever hurt him?” Archie softly asks her, looking at her carefully from behind his small glasses.

And Emma shakes her head as she comes to a decision, “No. _Never_.” She’s going to have to leave Storybrooke on her own.

( **regina** )

She tries to get David into bed because she needs to get the upper hand. It’s not like it’s something she particularly wants to do as she holds no attraction for the bland prince at all; on the contrary she is quite certain that sex with him would be unfulfilling, anticlimactic and quite frankly boring compared to the sex she’s been having with Emma.

Not that the sex she’s been having with Emma is special because it’s Emma. No, no it’s simply just orgasmic, and Emma’s quite talented with her fingers and her tongue. And that’s quite frankly the only thing Emma’s really talented with, if Regina does say so herself. Which she does. To herself. Repeatedly.

David doesn’t bite though, which is astonishing. She puts on her best act to lure him in, knows that she’ll have to do this to get what she wants, but he’s Prince fucking Charming, and he’s _in_ _love_ with Snow White, so he shoots her down. _Her_? She’ll just have to find another way to win this game; to get Emma to go away and leave her curse alone, to get Emma out of her system, because this cannot go on in any shape or form.

She has nightmares about her Curse breaking; nightmares about everyone in town coming after her once they realise what she’s done. She dreams of herself tied to a tree with Henry and Emma and everyone else in front of her. _I_ _just_ _wanted_ _to_ _win_ _for_ _once_ , but it doesn’t take with them, they don’t care. But she did just want to win, she _does_. She’s just not quite sure what _winning_ means anymore. Does it even mean the Curse? Or is it just about Henry and never losing him again?

It’s the Curse. It _has_ to be the Curse, because that’s her life’s work, and she has to fight for it. If she does, that means keeping Henry, too, and that’s enough of a reason to keep going on. She gets Mad Hatter’s help by promising him the only thing they both want – their kids – and he uses her last drop of magic ( _I’m_ _so_ _sorry_ _Daniel_ , Regina thinks as she kisses the ring) to grab an apple from the Enchanted Forest. She has to to do this, because she has to make sure that Emma doesn’t break her Curse and steal everything away from her, and if it just so happens that she can protect herself from her in other ways, that’s just an added bonus.

The apple is beautiful. Red, like she remembers, with a perfect bite mark from where the insipid Snow White took a bite to save her stupid prince. Regina smiles, because this is it – it has never failed her before. The question is just, “How to get the saviour to taste my forbidden fruit?” She grins, because Emma most certainly _has_ tasted her forbidden fruit; given her the best orgasms in the last thirty years, but Mad Hatter doesn’t know that, and he thinks they’re only talking about apple turnovers.

Regina bakes – she carefully chops up the apple, mixes it in with the dough and contemplates how to get Emma to taste it, because they’ve never exactly been the pair to sit down for a bite to eat together. Before she has time to come to a complete decision though, Emma’s at her door, wanting to talk to her.

“I think that this, _whatever_ this is between us, needs to end,” Emma tells her as she leans herself against the doorway.

Something awful takes hold of her heart at that, clenches around it, tugs at the heartstrings, but Regina schools her features, stares at Emma and seriously says, “I couldn’t agree more,” even though it feels like pulling her heart out of her chest, and she _literally_ _knows_ _how_ _that_ _feels_. It hurts, and it hurts even more that Emma is probably not just talking about this vicious war they’ve had going on for the past few months.

Emma follows her into the kitchen and tells her that she will be leaving town. “What we are doing is a problem,” she says and leans herself against the counter. Regina tries to ignore how good her long legs look in those jeans, and tries to forget how they feel wrapped around her head, and she knows she should probably just let it slide, but she _can’t_.

She can’t have Emma living out there somewhere, always being a threat to her relationship with Henry, to her sanity. She has to make sure that Emma will never return to tear them (her) apart, so she wants to go ahead with the plan. As long as Emma is out there, living and functioning, she’s a threat, and Regina is vulnerable. Emma barged into their life guns blazing, and Regina can’t have it continue. No, there are more important things, no matter how good the sex has been or how much she likes the way Emma challenges her and never backs down.

(It’s infuriating is what it is).

“I want to be in Henry’s life,” Emma tells her as she watches Regina take out the turnover from the oven and put it in a Tupperware container, “I want to be able to come visit.”

Regina hums in agreement as she offers the container to Emma. “I couldn’t agree more. Here’s something for the road. If we’re going to be in each other’s lives, I think it’s time we start being cordial.”

Her heart beats unnecessarily loud as Emma glances down at the container, and she can’t help but feel like they are counting down to something big. When Emma leaves town, it’s going to be quite boring and monotonous again – Regina has come to quite enjoy their squabbles and whatever happened in the utility closet at Town Hall afterwards – but it’s also going to be safer; Henry is going to be hers, and her heart is going to be safe from whatever it is that Emma has made her feel.

She can’t just have her leave, she has to sleep – eternally – because Emma has no such thing as a True Love, she doesn’t even believe in fairytales, and that’s the way Regina wants it to be.

( **emma** )

Henry is furious with her, because she’s leaving. She understands that; he sees her as some kind of saviour, but this isn’t good for him, good for them. Some distance will be fine, and he’ll understand that once he grows a little older. She’s already packed, and she’s going to take the Bug and get some perspective on things. Get some perspective on herself and the messed-up relationship she’s been having with the Mayor.

“But you can’t leave!” Henry argues, childish face screwed up in anguish, “You have to stop her!”

“Stop her from _what_?!” Emma questions as she kneels down in front of him. She’s desperate, sobs threatening to spill from her throat. “All she’s _ever_ done is fight for you!”

But Henry doesn’t want her to leave, and he most definitely doesn’t want her to eat the apple turnover. The second he realises that it’s from Regina – it’s that damn Tupperware container that gives it away – he smacks it out of her hand. Her heart is breaking, because he’s so in his fantasy, but he takes the turnover in his small hands with that determined look in his eyes, and she watches him chew slowly, doesn’t want to tell him _I_ _told_ _you_ _so_ , but perhaps this will finally make him see that he’s living in a fairytale world that doesn’t exist.

What she doesn’t expect is for him to collapse on the floor after swallowing one single bite.

( **emma** )

She’s furious with Doctor Whale, furious that he keeps saying that there’s no toxins in the damn turnover, furious that apparently it seems like _nothing_ is wrong with Henry, except he just collapsed, and Doctor Whale snaps at her, tells her to _think_ of anything else, and she empties Henry’s backpack onto the vacant bed and rummages through his things.

“I need _something_ to treat. And right now, there is no explanation. It’s like-” Doctor Whale glances down at Henry, so tiny in the big bed.

Emma’s eyes land on the damn book that Henry’s been carrying around for as long as she has known him, the book that she has leafed through plenty of times and watched him excitingly talk about. She sees the embedded title. _Once_ _Upon_ _a_ _Time_. A book about curses, queens, red apples, a saviour, and… “…like magic,” Emma whispers and takes the book into her hands, filled with a sudden clarity.

She takes the book into her hands, and suddenly she _remembers_.

She’s a fairytale character.

Her parents are Snow White and Prince Charming.

She was put into a magic wardrobe to escape a Dark Curse made by the Evil Queen.

The Evil Queen who is Regina, her son’s other mother.

Furious, that’s what she is. Furious and in disbelief because _how_ can this be true. How can fairytales be real, and how could Henry have known for so long and _how_ could she have not believed him? How could Regina do this? Be so evil as to curse an entire realm and freeze them in time for 28 years? Sure, Regina might be a pain in her butt, but she’s not _evil_ , at least that’s not what Emma has seen.

The familiar click of Regina’s heels sounds in the hospital room, along with the frantic, “Where’s my son?” and Emma snaps.

“You did this.” She grabs Regina by the arm and pulls her out of the room, down the hallway and into the utility closet. Heartbroken. Pissed off. And worried beyond belief because her _son_ is now under a sleeping curse meant for her all because she _didn’t_ believe in him. And it’s all down to Regina, the Evil Queen. Things fall around them as she repeats, “You did this!”

“What the hell are you doing!?” Regina snaps back and steps forward, trying to fight her way past Emma and out of the room again. But Emma’s stronger, more pissed off, and she pushes her against the wall, holds Regina back with both her arms. “What are you doing, that’s my son!?” Regina continues to fight her.

“He’s here because of you! That apple turnover you gave me. He ate it!” Emma growls. Her heart feels like it’s breaking because _Henry_ and _Regina_ , and how could the other woman do this!? She pulls back, finally letting go of her just a little.

Regina’s surprised voice tells Emma everything she needs to know along with the heartbreak immediately clouding over her features. “ _What_?” she whispers. “It was meant for you!”

“It’s _true_ , isn’t it?” she whispers lowly, finally accepting that everything Henry has told her is true, that everything she just _saw_ flash before her eyes is true, and that she’s really standing in front of the Evil Queen herself.

Regina cries, “What are you talking about it?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” she repeats, and their eyes lock in the small closet, faces close enough to kiss like they have been so many other times before. But what she sees in Regina’s eyes surprises her more than anything. She doesn’t see defeat, she doesn’t see anger.

She sees heartbreak. Despair. Sorrow. “Yes,” Regina whispers as all power seem to leave her body. Her head clanks back against the wall and she cries, nodding softly. “Yes,” she repeats, and Emma can see her heart breaking when she realises that Henry is stuck inside that bed because he’s under a sleeping curse.

But her own heart is breaking, too. “I was leaving town, why couldn’t you just leave things alone?”

“Because as long as you’re alive, Henry will never be mine!” Regina replies, anger flaring up in her eyes once more. She wonders if this is how it’s always going to be between the two of them; anger, despair, then heartbreak. Never any joy, never any peace. Always fighting, always yelling.

“He will never be anyone’s unless you fix this, you wake him up!”

“I can’t!”

“Don’t you have magic?”

Tears are spilling out of Regina’s eyes as she shakes her head, finally accepting that the two of them are in this together, for _Henry’s_ sake; Emma can see the moment she accepts it so clearly on her face. “That was the last of it.” She stares at Emma, pushes her off, “It was supposed to put _you_ to sleep!”

Emma backs away, ignores the way her heart seems to hurt by the mere thought of Regina wanting to get rid of her so _badly_ , and instead she focuses on Henry and how they are going to get him to wake up, because they _are_ _going_ _to_. She can’t lose him now, not when she just got him. “What’s it gonna do to him?” she questions.

“I don’t know,” Regina replies. “Magic… here… is unpredictable.”

“So he could-”

“ _Yes_.”

She loses her train of thought and it feels like she can’t breathe, but she will not give up, she will not give up on Henry. “So what do we do?” she asks and looks back at Regina. It might be Regina’s doing in the first place, but it doesn’t matter. Henry is theirs, the both of them’s, and they’re going to save him together.

If it’s the last thing she does.

( **emma** )

So apparently saving Henry means fighting a dragon to get a bottle stuck inside of it – a bottle holding True Love, which is the most powerful magic of all, she’s been told – and she’s the one who has to do the honers. Of course Mr. Gold, the sleaze bag, who’s even more of a sleaze bag now that she knows he’s actually Rumpelstiltskin tricks them and runs off with the vial to do his own thing.

It was their last hope of saving Henry, the last chance they had, and even when she and Regina fought together – and damnit if Regina isn’t the strongest woman Emma has ever met – it wasn’t enough, they weren’t enough to do it.

Admittedly, Emma is a little out of her depths here, but she fucking fought a dragon and she still didn’t _win_ , she still didn’t save her kid, and why doesn’t Regina have _any_ _magic_ left to save him!?

They arrive at the hospital just as they’re telling the time, and Emma can’t believe it has come to this. She feels guilty, stupid for not believing Henry for so long when he’d been right, and for not trusting him when he told her not to eat the turnover, and _why_ is Regina such a control freak who needs to cover all of her bases, why couldn’t she just let things be? Emma blames herself, she blames Regina, she blames the both of them for fighting over Henry when they should have both accepted that they had to share him from now on.

Her son. Their son. Henry. He’s gone.

Regina cries into Doctor Whale’s chest, crying _no_ _no_ , and Emma steps closer, tears trailing down her own cheeks as she tries to hold back her sobs. She brushes Henry’s hair back – her son, her son – and leans down to give him one last kiss.

“I love you, Henry,” she whispers as she presses her lips to his forehead.

( **regina** )

“I love you too,” Henry whispers as he comes to it with a gasp of air, “You saved me.”

Regina can’t believe it. “You did it,” she says, and she’s filled with such emotion that she can’t exactly pinpoint. Surprise. Elation. Pride. Emma _did_ it. Henry is _fine_.

“Henry… what’s going on?” Emma whispers, eyes wide. Regina glances around, watching Doctor Whale, watching as Mother Superior steps closer. There’s a sudden change in the air, a sudden difference, and Regina _knows_ what it is. She felt the surge of magic, too.

“The Curse… I think you broke it,” Henry says.

Mother Superior – Blue Fairy – steps closer to the bed and says, “That was True Love’s Kiss.”

And, “No. No,” that can’t be right. Not True Love’s Kiss. Not between _Emma_ and _Henry_? Not her Curse.

“If I were you, your Majesty,” Blue Fairy says with sudden coolness, “I’d find a place to hide.”

Her Curse. Everything she has ever worked for. What she sacrificed her own father’s heart for. It’s in shambles. Emma Swan, Saviour, broke her Curse by sharing True Love’s kiss with her son – both their son – as he looks at her, stares at her, as everything comes tumbling down around her.

She sees Henry’s loving face, sees Emma’s green eyes that’s not only filled with hatred but something else entirely. And she feels her own heart break into a million pieces inside of her chest; more painful than losing Daniel or her father or being married off to a man twice her age. It breaks, it breaks, not because of her Curse, because to hell with that, but because of _Henry_. Her son, her only saving grace. And Emma – infuriating, beautiful Emma Swan who grew up to be exactly who she was prophesied to be. Regina’s own undoing.

“Henry,” Regina whispers as she pushes forward to look into her son’s determined gaze, tears welling up in her eyes, “No matter what you think, no matter what anyone tells you, I _do_ love you,” she tells him and holds back a sob, before she brushes past Emma and out of the hospital.

Her heart is breaking.

**Author's Note:**

> As this story follows the seasons of the show, the next chapter will be updated as I rewatch the second season. I am just in the middle of season two right now, so obviously it will be a while before the next chapter will be up. Therefore, there is no schedule for this, but please do subscribe, because it will be posted eventually! 
> 
> Happily Ever After (or Emma Swan’s comedic quest to find true love) will be updated once Supernova is over; I am about four chapters ahead with it now, so there’s more coming very soon!


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